


Bloom

by grimeysociety



Series: Darcyland Cool For The Summer Challenge [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Confessions, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Missionary Position, POV Darcy Lewis, Questions, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 21:44:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15542787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimeysociety/pseuds/grimeysociety
Summary: Darcy and Bucky are the only ones staying behind one week during the summer. Darcy's determined to get to know Bucky - and maybe get him to fall in love with her a little, too.





	Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take on the "August 3: Stay-cation" prompt for the Cool For The Summer Challenge over at fuckyeahdarcylewis.tumblr.com
> 
> Each one of these stories for the challenge is named after a Summer-esque song that I listened to on repeat while I was writing. This one is named after Troye Sivan's "Bloom", which you can listen to [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=41PTANtZFW0)
> 
> This fic is dialogue heavy - apologies for anyone who came here for actual plot! x
> 
> Finally, if you'd like to message me about fic or fandom or whatever please go [here](https://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/ask) :)

Darcy sat opposite Bucky in the common room.

After spending the last few days between just the two of them, she knew how he’d react once she proposed the questionnaire.

With scepticism and suspicion.

His eyebrow rose, and he tilted his head slightly at her suggestion: that they answer over 30 questions.

What Bucky didn’t know was that these were supposed to make people fall in love, but Darcy already knew she had a crush on Bucky.

She just wasn’t sure if he’d ever do anything about his own feelings. Since knowing Bucky over the past year or so, they hadn’t interacted much.

He kept to himself mostly, and whenever Darcy did see him he always had intense eye contact with people. He was hyper vigilant otherwise and kept his eyes on his surroundings at all times.

Now he was just looking at her like her idea was another quirky thing he’d play along with, and she appreciated his willingness to indulge her.

They only had each other that week because everybody else on the compound had their own plans, their own places to be while Darcy was avoiding a trip home and Bucky just had Steve, who had gone to see Sharon.

The first day, Darcy went to find Bucky and knocked on his door.

He opened it, and stared at her, his blue eyes overwhelming.

She blushed, but attempted to play it off.

“You and me, huh, Barnes?”

“Sure,” he said, smirking a little.

Sitting opposite each other with nothing but the carpet and Darcy’s phone screen between them, she blushed again.

“There are over 30 questions.”

“Okay,” Bucky said. “I’m guessing they’re thorough.”

“You don’t have to answer them if you don’t want to.”

She had given the list a vague once over, knowing there were things in Bucky’s past he’d rather not talk about, but given that they’d spent most of the week together watching movies and talking, she knew she wasn’t going to be outright ignored.

Unless she crossed some line, but as far as she was aware, he tolerated her enough.

“Okay. Number one: Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?”

Bucky frowned. “Dunno.”

“I would say Marilyn Monroe. I’d just want to know how she died.”

Bucky just shrugged, and Darcy felt a little dumb. If he was going to be like this the whole time, maybe this was a mistake and she should have put on Singin’ in the Rain or something like that.

She cleared her throat, pressing on.

“Two: Would you like to be famous? In what way?”

She waited a second before speaking again:

“Yes. But it would be for a party trick I could perform on Ellen. Don’t know what, though. I have no hidden talents.”

She looked at Bucky pointedly.

“No,” he muttered. “For obvious assassin reasons.”

“Okay, then.”

An awkward pause. Perhaps the first of dozens, but she wanted to get through it since they had already started.

“Three: Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?”

Darcy looked at the ceiling.

“Yes. Because I go off track easily. You?”

“Yeah. Um,” Bucky cleared his throat. “Anxiety.”

“Right,” Darcy said, adding a little smile at the end, hoping she was comforting him.

“I don’t talk too often,” he added, and she just nodded.

“Four: What would constitute a “perfect” day for you?”

Bucky shook his head, rolling his eyes a little.

“It’s lame.”

“I bet it’s not,” Darcy replied, pressing him. “There’s no wrong answer.”

He chuckled, so faint it was hardly there but she heard it just the same.

“I get up and go outside, smell the fresh air. I smile. It has to be genuine.”

“Wow,” Darcy breathed, and he looked straight at her, making her look down at her phone, smiling a little. “That’s really beautiful. I won’t say mine. Might ruin the moment.”

Bucky laughed, and she smiled wider.

“Five: When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?”

Darcy smirked. “I sang in the shower this morning. I usually sing Christmas carols to Jane even though she’s forbid it for years.

She waited, but Bucky just shrugged.

“Probably sang to some dame.”

He looked awkward, avoiding Darcy’s gaze.

She could imagine him crooning in a girl’s ear and making them physically swoon into his arms. Darcy knew that would work on her in no time, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it.

“Six: If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?”

“You didn’t read these questions beforehand, did you?” Bucky muttered, and Darcy screwed up her face a little, choosing not to answer that.

“Do you wanna skip this one? You’re a hundred,” she said, and Bucky smirked.

“I’ve done both.”

Darcy shrugged. “Body of a ninety year-old. Who gives a shit?”

She scrolled.

“Seven: Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?”

Bucky blinked. “Murdered, most likely.”

Darcy sucked in a breath. “That’s… bleak.”

He shrugged.

Darcy wasn’t sure. “Maybe old age. Eight: Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.”

Her eyes travelled over him.

“We both have brown hair.”

“And blue eyes,” Bucky added.

Had he been close enough to her to notice that? Yes, he must have. While they watched movies at night and shared popcorn, their knuckles occasionally bumping in the bowl.

“And blue eyes,” Darcy agreed.

“Is that all?” he asked, and Darcy smirked.

“We both like to eat?” she shrugged. “Nine: for what in your life do you feel most grateful?”

Bucky’s answer was close to immediate.

“I’m grateful that I got out. I’m grateful for Steve keeping me in the fold.”

Darcy nodded. “I’m grateful I met you.”

Bucky’s eyes swivelled to hers, and she held his gaze.

“I’m grateful for everyone I’ve met through my initial internship.”

She supposed her second answer was less specific, so she wasn’t drawing too much attention to their relationship. But this whole stunt was to make him like her back, to push him toward her without the risk of her being rejected.

Darcy had her own weird ways of making her true feelings known, and she knew not everyone liked that about her. Plenty of her exes would have rolled their eyes at her.

“Ten: If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?”

Bucky thought for a moment.

“Sometimes I think about not being raised so poor but I never would have met Steve. Maybe my old man being so aggressive.”

“You mean with his masculinity?” Darcy asked, and Bucky nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Same,” she replied. “And my dad leaving me.”

Bucky stared. “I didn’t know that happened.”

“I didn’t tell you,” she retorted, without any bite to her tone. “Eleven: Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible.”

She groaned briefly, tossing her head back.

“ _Fuck_ four minutes… It was a cold winter’s night – no, I was a breached baby. I was work. My mom suffered. I was born in June 1991 and I grew up in Staten Island. I liked books and ice cream. I wanted to be a cheerleader but never got a callback. I broke my arm falling off a horse. Staten Island trash on a horse? Yeah, right. I had never seen a farm before. I went to Culver and declared my major at the last second. I met Jane when she advertised for an intern. Now I’m here.”

Bucky listened, and then shrugged a little once it was his turn.

“You already know. Born 1917. Went to war. I was a POW. HYDRA.”

Darcy nodded, feeling tight in her chest. Whenever he spoke about his trauma, she wanted to reach out and hold his hand.

“Twelve: If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?”

Darcy paused and then launched into another rant:

“Sometimes I hate not having super strength. Even Natasha can crush stuff with her thighs. I sometimes cut off my own circulation when I sit on my legs but I don’t exactly have powers. Is yours your arm?”

Bucky blinked for a few seconds before replying. “I dunno. I can’t remember my real arm.”

“This is your real arm, too,” Darcy said, indicating his metal left arm that shone in the sunlight.

“Right,” he muttered, seemingly unconvinced.

She didn’t mean to come across as insensitive or stupid but she felt like she was starting to fail at both.

“Thirteen: If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?”

Darcy bit her lip. “How many kids I have and what names do they have.”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Whether I can have kids. It’s debatable.”

Darcy was making this worse. She should stop.

“Fourteen: Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?”

She waited, wondering if his answer could be something that they could do together to make up for her tactlessness, her brash presence when all he wanted was peace and quiet.

To her surprise, there was a hint of a smile on his face.

“Ask someone on a date.”

He didn’t stop looking at her. In fact, he was making the point of only looking at her, and then his eyes travelled down one of her legs and then back up to her face.

There was a flare of arousal in Darcy’s gut.

She smiled. “You been holding out on me?”

This was dangerous. She was playing with fire and in a second, he would back away and want to leave the room entirely.

“Would you say yes?” he asked, and Darcy felt her heart begin to hammer in her chest.

“Sure,” she replied, and swallowed, looking down at her phone, the heat rising in her cheeks once more.

“Fifteen: What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?”

Bucky was no longer edging on flirtatious. His face fell.

“The war.”

He didn’t elaborate.

“I dunno,” Darcy admitted. “I graduated.”

She dismissed it, wondering what her mother would say. Nothing good.

“Sixteen: What do you value most in a friendship? Devotion.”

“Honesty,” he said.

“Seventeen: What is your most treasured memory?” Darcy asked.

“Teaching my sister to ride a bike.”

Darcy’s heart swelled.

“That stupid pony I fell off. Or maybe Thor coming back, in London.”

Darcy looked down at her screen again and froze.

“Eighteen: What is your most terrible memory? You don’t have to answer this. But I want you to know that no matter what you said, it wouldn’t change anything.”

Her words were a tumble, but Bucky didn’t seem to upset.

He just kept looking at her. Finally, he muttered:

“That makes you sound a little naïve.”

“I don’t care. I mean, I care about what happened because it’s fucked up but I know that it wasn’t you. Not really.”

“What about you?” he asked, and Darcy momentarily forgot the question.

“Uh, my grandma dying,” she said, her voice softer. “Nineteen: If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?”

“Do more. Say more.”

“Be more?” Darcy added, and he nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Twenty: What does friendship mean to you?”

They were burning through these.

“Hanging out. Talking. Having fun. Listening.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. His smile was coming back.

“And maybe knowing when to shut my big fat mouth.”

“I didn’t say that.”

He was smiling wider, and Darcy couldn’t help but copy him.

“Twenty One: What roles do love and affection play in your life?”

She thought for a second.

“I love. I encourage people to love and show love. I love to love. I’m a stupid romantic who cries easily.”

Bucky blinked, unsure. “I’m still – I dunno. I’m weird. I’m not right.”

Darcy didn’t press him, didn’t bother arguing with him, either.

“Twenty two: Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items.”

She rolled her eyes a little, before deciding to just go for it.

“You are so focused, like when you made dinner; you were meticulous without being asked to. You’re smart. You’re so smart. You’re very handsome as well, that helps. You’re very sweet.”

“Sweet?” Bucky repeated, and Darcy saw his cheeks were a little pink.

“Sincere,” she amended. “You’re real.”

“That’s four,” Bucky retorted.

“Well, where’s your five? We’re supposed to alternating and you’ve said nothing.”

He looked away, shaking his head, and she didn’t wait for him to answer the question.

“Twenty three: How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s?”

She decided to be honest.

“Average. I loved my grandma the most because she never tried to make me quieter or less than what I was.”

“Better than Steve’s. Perfect mom,” Bucky replied.

Darcy wished she could have known Bucky’s mother.

She rolled her eyes again at the next question. It sounded vaguely Freudian.

“Twenty four: How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?”

Bucky didn’t reply straight away so Darcy went first.

“I can’t tell her what’s really going on. For all she knows I’m a waitress in Phoenix. It makes me feel bad. Guilty.”

Bucky looked away. “I loved her more than anyone. I never told her that. I should have every day.”

Darcy let the moment hang between them, and then she got up from her couch and sat down beside him.

It was a relief that Bucky didn’t look alarmed or try to run away.

His arm remained stretched across the back of the couch when Darcy settled beside him.

“Twenty five: Make three true “we” statements each. For instance, “We are both in this room feeling ...”

“We are feeling tired,” Bucky muttered, and he rubbed his eyes with one hand.

He meant drained, because these questions were taking it out of him. Which was more than fair.

“Tired of this questionnaire?” Darcy added.

“Yeah.”

“We are doing pretty well, considering.”

“We are – good at this. Being honest.”

Darcy smiled a little. “We are good friends, that’s why.”

“We’re good friends,” Bucky repeated, no longer hesitant.

“We are perfect together.”

Maybe that was pushing it, because Bucky seemed to correct her.

“Yes – we’re a… team.”

Darcy moved on.

“Twenty six: Complete this sentence: “I wish I had someone with whom I could share ...””

Bucky didn’t say anything.

“My bed. Just putting it out there, honesty and all. A girl gets lonely.”

Bucky chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s understandable. For everyone.”

“Even you?” Darcy asked.

She nudged his side, and Bucky did not tense up like she half expected him to.

“Sure.”

“Twenty seven: If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know.”

Bucky rubbed his eyes again.

“I have nightmares, but you already knew that.”

Unfortunately, Darcy knew all too well that Bucky cried out in his sleep.

A few days ago, she found him thrashing on the couch. She’d let him sleep there after a Star Wars marathon, and regretted waking him from it because he looked so ashamed once he realized what she witnessed.

Darcy swallowed, squeezing her eyes together.

“I used to have bulimia.”

Bucky touched her hand and Darcy’s eyes opened.

“I’ve never told anybody before. I just – I get embarrassed.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

He stroked her hand for a few moments before withdrawing.

“Twenty eight: Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you’ve just met.”

Darcy felt the heavy silence between them every time she paused for thought.

She wanted to tell him everything about her own life, to share everything. The last few days had proven that she could have more than Jane to confide in.

She turned her body toward him fully, making sure he was looking straight at her.

“I feel your eyes on me. I know when you’re looking at me.”

Bucky did not blink. “You don’t like me doing that?”

He sounded close to scared.

“I – don’t mind. I just wished you spoke to me sooner than this week.”

He looked at his hands. “Me, too. I’ve wasted time. Not being near you.”

Darcy let go of her breath shakily, choosing to stare at her phone.

“Twenty nine: Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.”

She snorted, making Bucky look up at her again.

“Are we talking lifetime or – today? Because I tripped over my headphones cord this morning and hit my knee. Like, what context are we talking? Naked shenanigans out of bounds?”

“I guess not,” Bucky said.

“Noted that you’re not sharing first, Barnes.” Darcy cleared her throat. “Okay. First time I ever masturbated I thought I was having a stroke.”

Bucky laughed, and Darcy felt relief that he was not sad.

“But you weren’t?”

“Fortunately, no. What about you?”

Bucky smirked. “I did not think I was having a stroke the first time I ever jerked off. I just thought I had a disease.”

Darcy sniggered. “Because of the - ? The mess?”

“Yeah.”

Once their giggles subsided, Darcy moved on.

“Thirty: When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?”

She did not have to think about her answer.

“We watched Wizard of Oz. Duh. I always cry.”

Bucky took a few seconds longer. “Must be when I saw my therapist. Or maybe with Steve, I dunno. I don’t usually cry.”

“But it’s _okay_ to,” Darcy added.

“I know. I just – it’s hard to let myself feel some things sometimes.”

“Thirty one: Tell your partner something that you like about them already.”

Darcy looked into his eyes. “I dunno, your face?”

“Same, your face,” Bucky replied.

There were five or so more questions and then they would finish. She wondered if she would actually follow through with her original plan, or chicken out and then call Jane to whine about her cowardice and sexual frustration.

“Thirty two: What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about? I mean, that seems kind of obvious, but HYDRA?”

“HYDRA, yeah,” Bucky agreed. “And masturbation.”

Darcy grinned. “Oh, you made a joke! How cute.”

Bucky smiled, eyes warm.

Darcy stared down at the next question.

“Thirty three: If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven’t you told them yet?”

She swallowed, feeling herself inexplicably shiver.

“I mean, that’s kinda heavy – ”

“That this has been one of the best weeks of my life,” Bucky breathed, and Darcy stared at him, her thumb poised on her phone.

“For real?”

“For real,” he echoed.

She pressed on, heart racing. She tried to ignore her sweaty palms.

“Thirty four: Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?”

Darcy rolled her eyes.

“That’s a dumb question. All I need is already saved. I don’t have photo albums.”

“I don’t have much stuff at all. My medals, I guess.”

Darcy wondered which ones he had. A couple purple hearts, perhaps.

“You have medals? I mean, of course you do. But I thought they’d put them in the Smithsonian?”

Bucky looked over his shoulder down the hall.

“I got ‘em.”

“Can I see?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

They got up, and Darcy followed behind him down the corridor to his room.

It was sparse, his bed unmade with a fan sat in front of it.

He went to his drawers, and between several pairs of identical socks, he retrieved several medals. Some looked more damaged than others did.

Darcy had so many questions, unrelated to her stupid Internet one. She wanted to know what they all meant, and which ones he’d been given after he came back from HYDRA.

And Bucky had _five_ purple hearts.

When he put them away after Darcy stared at them for several minutes, they sat on Bucky’s bed.

“Two questions left.”

Bucky nodded.

“Thirty five: Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?”

Darcy winced.

“I hate this question. Next.”

She swallowed.

“Thirty six: Share a personal problem and ask your partner’s advice on how he or she might handle it. Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen.”

After several moments, she put her phone down between them, rubbing her hands a little to calm herself.

She took a deep breath.

“I like you, but I don’t know how to deal with that when I know you can just push me away. I don’t know how I’d survive if you decided you didn’t want me. That you didn’t like me, too. Because I feel it all the time. It’s so right. I mean, it’s so obvious, the feeling of it, so it must be right. Right?”

Her words felt like a jumble, and she wondered if he would ask her to repeat them, which would be humiliating.

But he took her hand in his.

“Right,” he murmured.

He lifted her hand to kiss her palm, to rest it against his stubbled cheek.

“Oh, Bucky.”

Darcy felt tears begin to well up.

He was suddenly on her, pressing her into the mattress, his lips crushing hers.

Their hands were frantic, clothes been pulled off and thrown aside.

Bucky slipped two fingers inside her and Darcy moaned, so glad there was no-one else to hear them.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he pushed inside her, making her bite her bottom lip and tremble.

“You feel better than I imagined,” he breathed, and Darcy clenched briefly.

“You imagined this?”

“Of course I did.”

They rocked together, and soon Darcy was close to the edge - and after a couple rough swipes of Bucky’s thumb on her clit, she came.

He followed soon after, spilling inside her.

Lying together, sweat cooling on their skin, Darcy chuckled.

“I’m getting an idea of what we can get up to before everybody gets back.”

Bucky smiled, before pulling her toward him again.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [The 36 Questions That Lead to Love](https://www.nytimes.com/2015/01/11/fashion/no-37-big-wedding-or-small.html)


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